


Sildenafil

by BananaNeko



Category: Vocaloid
Genre: A Crapload of it, And the Other Guests are Deaf, BDSM, Basically Sexual Violence, Bastard Boyfriend, Bastard with a Brain, Beating, Bleeding, Blow Jobs, Drunk Girl, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fingerfucking, Genital Torture, Hardcore, Hotel Sex, Impractical Aftercare, Lemon, Lone Wolf, Masturbation in Shower, Orgasm Control, Painful Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Psychopath, Sadism, Shameless Smut, Slipshod Ending, Solid Porn, Subjugation, Suppose I Should Add "Abuse", Vaginal Fisting, Wet & Messy, Written by Fangirl, Wrong Usage of Brains, kids don't try this at home, pornfest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-21
Updated: 2016-09-17
Packaged: 2018-06-03 15:34:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 8
Words: 12,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6615982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BananaNeko/pseuds/BananaNeko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Len is vexed with the way she’s been treating him. Utterly vexed. She doesn’t even know what he’s really like. He’d known she wouldn’t be like how those kind of girls usually were – but this is just going too far. She’s going to have to pay for everything one night – but he’s been bottling it for far too long, and he might just lose control… and when he does, it’s going to get ugly. And extremely painful.</p><p>(NSFW. Warning on misogynistic narrator.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING: PURELY, UTTERLY PWP, GENUINELY NOTHING BUT PORN AND EXPLICIT CRAP AHEAD.
> 
> Yes, I’ll just say I created this stereotype of an annoying girl just for the sake of trying to enjoy writing Len bashing her. (And failed fantastically.) THIS IS PORN. So don’t judge me for misogyny. But… yeah, you can judge Len in this fic for that. He is kind of a misogynistic piece of shit.  
> Do NOT for the love of Bieber (okay… that was random o,o) ask me what prompted me to write this. I was just stressed out – and according to me writing porn is still better than watching it. It extends your vocab by about 0.02mm.
> 
> Sorry about the very unimaginative title. Honestly didn’t know what else to call a story without a plot. Kindly call it sarcasm, if you will?
> 
> Yaaaay. My first 7-chapter long porn fic. (Never thought it'd end up so long... ==) I’ll be uploading one chapter every few days, so it’s kind of going to be a long night for our poor heroine. (Ouch. >.

 

‘ _Uwahh_!’

A squeak of pain jumped from her throat.

He felt a spike of irritation as she flailed about pathetically underneath him, bleating something about her being done already and he’d given her more than enough. The sweat was gushing from her hairline like a fountain, and her ever-pristine princess-curled fringe was now more like a mop.

Mind though – it wasn’t even him who started this.

‘L-Len… stop – I said stop!’

Normally, he was tolerant. He’d never said anything when she dragged him around the new theme park in the Christmas holiday peak and made him wait with her in one after another excruciatingly long queue and expected him to clean up her sick after that and buy her a pink teddy bear to make up for her upset.

This was different.

Just how long did she intend to keep this going? Dragging and dragging it, as she bragged about herself and flaunted and dangled it in his face but never actually kept her word. The excuse would always be, _I changed my mind_ , or _I’m not ready for this_ or _I’m scared_ , and she’d burst into blubbers if he criticised her for breaking promises like eggshells.

Then the next morning she’d knock on his door in a beach towel. Her showerhead broke. The knob came off. Or whatever. Then drop the towel and squeal. On his personal book of rules, if she flashed him she was asking for it – but apparently, that wasn’t the case.

Somehow.

‘Len – baby. I’m done – hey _knock it off_ – I’m done okay? I, uh… I want to take this thing slowly.’ She smiled girlishly, touching his face as if soothing a disobedient pet. Her voice was a little bit shrill.

Yes, well done. Her divine hand, with the power to soothe all the vicious trolls and monsters. Heaven’s angels always smiled down on the brave little heroine who believed in her unquestionable ability to win the loyalty of the toughest-hearted thugs across the globe. Some sloppy Jeanne d’Arc.

He wasn’t even a thug – so he’d be a piece of cake to her, right?

‘Come on, just a bit more…’ he murmured, kissing her sweaty forehead.

‘No!’ she squeaked, voice flipping. ‘D-Don’t be silly, baby – you’re going to get me in trouble. It’s already so _late_.’

‘Don’t you trust me? …Or are you _scared_ again?’

‘…’

‘Oh. Did I guess right?’ He didn’t try to hide his sarcasm.

She didn’t notice it; or pretended not to. ‘I… I’m not a slut, Len. Our relationship isn’t all about _sex_ and all that gross stuff. I want us to be romantic. I want people to look at us and think we’re the best couple ever. I’m going to _prove_ we’re the best.’

‘…You care about _people_?’

‘Of course I do!’ That self-assured girlish smile was back on her face. ‘When I show you to all my friends next time they’re going to envy me like hell, I guarantee you… Baby you’re _so_ hot. They’d be totally dumbstruck.’ She gave a gasp. ‘Oh my god… they’re gonna want you too!’

‘Yeah. Why not,’ he muttered.

‘You think so too? You narcissist.’ She smirked. ‘But don’t you try go snogging them around when my back’s turned – even if they try to. I know you’re a big flirt. I know you’re hot and a lot of girls are going to be interested but you’re _my_ boyfriend now baby, okay? Don’t forget that okay?’

‘Sure.’

Oh. Not a group-bang?

‘And can you kiss me right then?’ Her face lighted up with excitement. ‘So everyone can see just how close we are. Haha… it’s going to drive them crazy! And then – and then…’

‘…How about now?’

‘No! You’re trying to start things again, aren’t you?’

‘…“Things”?’

‘Well… _I’ll_ give you a kiss.’ She mashed her lips against his cheekbone, and then giggled (not-so-) seductively.

He made to punch the back of her head with his left hand, then stopped it with his right and settled for pulling his face out of her mouth’s reach.

She. Was a _bitch_. Bitch – though _almost_ harmless – with a capital B. As in the stupid-domestic-dog kind; the ones without any brains added to their mother-of-fuck-annoying personalities.

And by the way, she’d added one evening, casually: Her parents lived in the house exactly opposite the street of her house – they were in it right now – which she’d quite conveniently forgotten to mention until she’d firmly established her status as his “girlfriend”. Then there was that time she’d tried to publicly broadcast their relationship over Facebook and Instagram; he’d promptly hacked it out of her accounts.

How did he even have the misfortune of meeting her?

Once upon a time a few months back.

She was fresh into college, all adored and coddled around by everyone. Then she awoke to the fact that among her supposed friends she was the only one without a boyfriend and grew very discontented. (He’d bought her a drink and she vomited out her sob story in his face.)

She wanted a splendid, sexy boyfriend worthy of her precious royal ass – and thought it a fine idea to strut into a disreputable night pub in a pink Barbie skirt and hook the first hot-looking guy she saw sitting alone. He was just looking for something fresh; a long-term mate, maybe.

He went to sit at the bar for an innocent martini. She came and sat on his lap. Enough said.

Or maybe not.

She got his phone number and saved hers on his phone, took him home in a cab, and changed into her night slip. Then she said goodnight, shooed him out and went to sleep. She nearly ended up in a fix (or rather, being _fixed_ permanently) but was saved by his conscience and curiosity, and woke up peacefully the next morning on a sunny Sunday with a perfect new boyfriend and a stylishly dismembered alarm clock. (He studied mechanical engineering in college. All kinds of ungodly mechanics. But he never graduated because he woke up late for his exam.)

Now, he was more into breaking things. It was easy when one knew how things were made.

Soft things.

‘Mmm, baby… I love you,’ she cooed.

‘And what’s your definition of _love_?’ he answered dryly.

For example, he knew where exactly to grip to snap her spine like a pretzel stick.

‘Romantic. Eternal…’

‘What about the drink parties from the other day?’ he asked her, carefully keeping his voice toneless.

‘What drink party?’

‘The ones you didn’t tell me about.’

‘Oh my god – I forgot! I’m sorry baby… I meant to tell you later, really I mean!’

‘I heard you left with someone,’ he said coolly.

‘Oh, uh…’

‘Is he another friend of yours?’

‘Uh, yeah… A friend. He’s no one really. He helped me get home because I got kind of tipsy and – yeah, that’s it.’

‘…That’s nice to know.’ Was _he_ a no one she picked up at the bar too?

‘I just told you, didn’t I? You’re my boyfriend. I don’t flirt with boys, Len. Don’t you trust me?’

‘Bet the guy didn’t think that.’

‘He’s just a friend, Len! For god’s sake.’

‘Just saying. It’s kind of too late if you make that point _after_ he fucks the daylights outta you.’

She rolled her eyes. ‘Yeah. I get it. I’ll be _careful_ , okay?’

‘Drunk? In a car? With a _no one_ picked up from a club party? At what, two in the morning? You call that careful?’ She expected him to care about her _safety_? More like her _hygiene_.

‘I meant I’ll be careful _next time_! Stop fussing about it already, it’s over!’

‘Just lemme make this clear,’ he said calmly, ‘If you’re going to go sleeping around with every other _no one_ you meet at your club _date night_ parties you go to without so much as _telling me_ consider yourself single. Because I don’t work that way.’

‘I know that! I told you, I didn’t _sleep_ with him.’

‘Of course you didn’t. You’re such a priss.’ He snorted. ‘Or did you forget my phone number again?’

‘ _You_ ’re the pervert.’

‘Aw. So you’re scared of me so you didn’t call me, huh. _Makes sense_.’

She gulped slightly.

He stroked her hair.

‘Honey – call me next time you can’t drive. Better still don’t leave your boyfriend out next time unless you don’t want him.’

‘I _do_! Why are you so sensitive when it comes to all this?’

‘…Just tell me at least and I’ll come to pick you up.’

‘Fine.’

He sighed, turning her head the other way so she wouldn’t see the disgusted scowl on his face. He was trying to be nice, honestly.

‘…Baby?’

‘Hm?’

‘I think you should leave now…’

‘ _What_?’

‘Don’t sound like that! It’s already midnight, my parents are gonna be worried! And they can see your car from here. We can meet again okay? You really need to go now.’

‘Yeah, that’s right. On a Friday night? How old are you, twelve?’ What else did she have that was more inviting – heck, more important – than him, her supposed boyfriend? Another one waiting at the backdoor?

‘It’s true,’ she sniffed.

‘You mean to say you _haven’t told your parents_ who you’re with or what you’re doing – _After_ telling me they’re so very _desperate_ for a boyfriend and they’re _fine with it_. What else have you _forgotten_ to tell me about, hm?’

‘Aw, that’s just…’

‘Just what? Excuses?’

She slapped him playfully. ‘Oh, stop it! You’re just being jealous.’

The air suddenly chilled, making her freeze.

‘Jealous?’ he repeated, dangerously quiet. ‘Jealous of _what_ , exactly?’

‘J-Jealous of my time, silly,’ she breathed, turning slightly pink. ‘No need to get so worked up!’

‘…’

‘I’m serious! My parents _do_ know you’re here and they said you have to leave before midnight if I want to keep going out with you.’

‘…And you listen to them.’

‘Well, yeah? And a guy listens to a girl if he wants her to date him, moron. If she doesn’t want him in her bedroom - you don’t just _barge in_ , that’s called rape!’

‘…’

Did that just sort of put him at the very bottom of the ranking, or was it his imagination? Girl’s old parents living across the street, dumb bitch-girl, then him, the perverted little boyfriend.

He sighed. ‘You don’t even live under the same roof…’

‘They’re my _parents_.’

‘Have you even thought of _talking_ to them? Or do you just not bother?’ he asked wryly.

‘Just shut up and get out, Len,’ she snapped. ‘You’re gonna get me in trouble.’

‘ _Either way_ ,’ he muttered to himself. _Very_ reluctantly, he pushed himself off her bed and picked his clothes out from the mess on the floor, shrugging on his hoodie. He didn’t try to hide his irritation.

She stretched out leisurely on her front on the mattress, watching him dress, naked except for her pink frillies.

‘G’night baby – sleep tight.’

He _smiled_. ‘Bye. See you tomorrow.’

‘Bye baby,’ she purred, looking very pleased with her own persuasive skills.

He didn’t look back to see if she flinched when he slammed the door shut.

He slunk down the stairs to her hall, very much aware he was being kicked out of a girl’s bedroom for about the very first time in his life. It was either _he_ kicked them out, _they_ ran (though they didn’t make it very far), or were too drunk to do so. But – him? Never.

‘…’

This girl was different, he reminded himself. She was a _girlfriend_ , not a one-nighter.

It was a long time since he’d had a girlfriend, actually. His last relationship hadn’t ended so well.

He paused for a moment, deciding on whether or not to walk out through the backdoor just to see if there really wasn’t anyone there – but then decided he wasn’t about to sneak out from her house like a burglar. He was her _boyfriend_ for hell’s sakes.

Even though she didn’t treat him like one. At least she _called_ him that.

So he walked out onto the path under the bright bare moonlight, rather painfully aware he was being watched from both the windows in the houses on either side of the deserted street. _Oh, he’s finally left_ , they were saying, probably. Like an unwanted nuisance. What did he come to when _she_ chased him out of her house in the blasted dead of the night? For doing what? Accusing her of flirting?

He. Was. _Not_. A civilised pet.

He very scarcely tolerated these kinds of situations. He honestly didn’t. If she wasn’t his _girlfriend_ he probably would have been pulling a blade out of her bloody sheath right now.

With seemingly sober, casual motions, he smoothly slid into his car and skidded off down the drive, glancing at her window through his back mirror as it went dark.

One of these days… he’d make her learn. If she was taught a lesson once, maybe left with a permanent scar to keep reminding her, she’d never dare think of forgetting it again. She’d learn not to mess with someone like him.

One of these days.

Hmm.

Tomorrow wasn’t a bad date.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The chapter in which I attempt to justify (and fail of course) why our fluffy sweetheart Len wants to rape a girl.

2

‘Mmmh – baby… go slower– n- _ahh_ …’

Just. Shut the hell up.

He wanted to say.

He just curled his fingers into her still-wet hair fresh from the shower and did as she asked, swallowing his impatience. Settling into her on a hotel bed, twelve storeys up in a love suite. Her breath reeked of the drinks he’d stuffed her with.

‘L-eeen,’ she moaned. ‘I said slower. It hurts! I’m not used to this you know?’

Yes your royal Highness.

 _She_ ’d asked for a hotel. She said she changed her mind. She wanted to fuck him after all, without her parents in the way. She made him pay the bills, because it was his job apparently.

Fine with him, so long as she gave him back the minimum he expected from that transaction.

And here she was…

It was almost impossible wrestling himself still while underneath him she pleasured herself on his dick, taking her own sweet time. He gritted his teeth each time spasms of near-irresistible sensations shot through his tantalised nerves, feeling horribly lame. It wasn’t just a torment. It was an utter embarrassment.

All the while, the ticking in his head was growing harder and harder to ignore.

How many times did she intend to make him put up with this?

Why was he even putting up with this crap in the first place?

He took a deep, shuddering breath, closed his eyes, and concentrated on listening to her idiotic moans. He gave a gentle prod – and she moaned ecstatically. It was heartening to know that she apparently derived so much pleasure from his small favours, though he found nothing about them halfway close to interesting. Setting aside the fact that he wasn’t a machine, setting aside how _humiliating_ it was for him.

Unless, of course, she was faking it.

Did she actually care about what he wanted? Did she even know him – _any_ part of him other than his male parts and his mouth? Did she even ask about his past, family, friends (– like he had any to begin with)?

Hell, no.

She’d apparently created this fantasy inside her thick skull of him being a male mannequin who acted out Prince Charming and lived to sweep bows and kiss her hands. Or she thought she lived in Fairytale Land. She seemed to think this was a one-sided affair that revolved around her.

She was so _bloody_ worried about playing it safe. Frankly, she was a coward and a _prissy_ little pussycat who thought she was some sleek, sexy vixen with a badass accent, queen of the world. She didn’t trust him, did she?

Good thing she didn’t.

He felt like fucking her blue for once until she screamed her head off in goddamned pleasure and nothing would come out of her mouth or the nut-sized hole between her legs but him. Like the pretty-faced dumb doll she was. That’d clear her head a bit. It was her problem if she couldn’t handle what she landed herself in; for even thinking for a moment she could handle _him_ , for disparaging him and bringing him out all the way here in the blinking middle of the night and expecting him to let her to leave when she’d had _her_ fill of hot milk in a saucer. He hadn’t been in a good mood today to begin with when she rang him. He needed a _break_.

Once again, she’d conveniently _forgotten_ to give him back anything.

She wanted a dangerous boyfriend? She wanted to stay out overnight? She wanted a hotel? Sure – she could have what came with it too. He wasn’t her pet to facilitate her bed with. But she seemed to think he’d come running anywhere with one bloody phone call in the middle of the night to do her bidding. In his opinion… she really needed a good flogging or two. She ought to pay dearly for her stupidity once, and then she’d wish she’d never tried to mess with him in the first place.

But, then.

Grinding his teeth, he kept his mouth shut. He still wanted to be civil. He wanted a relationship that lasted longer than several nights for once. There were some things he liked about her, too – like her innocence, mostly, her utter lack of world experience – and he wasn’t that keen on marring that. He was still trying for a mate.

She was – just like she was right now, literally – in his hands. A dumb little songbird, currently pleased with itself and its wonderful little paradise world, and it was his choice whether to make it see the barbwire cage it was sitting so happily in.

Otherwise, she’d be the same as any other one-night punchboard with their stubborn little attitudes he had fun crushing. Like candies, into a hundred sticky splinters of caramelised sugar to chew on piece by piece.

She seemed to think he was grinding his teeth for some other reason, and smiled euphorically.

He breathed deeply. Calm down, just let it pass… It wasn’t worth it…

His tolerance spared her another ten minutes to get bored of her sloppy bliss – but he finally, finally knew he’d had enough when she gave a placid yawn in his face and _dismissed_ him. ‘Boy, that was nice. Though you seriously need to stop rushing it like that… Come over to my place next time – we can use my bed, it’s comfier. I’ll tell you when.’

What was he – a whore?

He just _snapped_.

If she wanted a dick, she got one.

She sat up, but he didn’t follow. His voice, even to his own surprise, was ice-cold as he sneered at her. ‘I _think_ , honey – if you can see the clock – it’s still pretty early to finish up.’

When she practically ignored him, he grabbed the sleeve of the sweater she was apparently trying to put on, and roughly yanked her back into the bed, tossing the sweater aside.

‘Baby, what the –?’

He straddled her.

Well, she’d had her round, so obviously it was his turn now. Fair was fair, wasn’t it?

What had _she_ ever done for him?

Not for him. For them, even. As far as he was concerned there wasn’t a _them_ at all. And he was starting to not give a damn about her fantasies.

If she couldn’t honour her terms as a _girlfriend_ , then she’d just have to pay for his favours the hard way.

 _All_ of it, over the course of… say, a couple of days.

‘Why don’t we try _my_ way for a change, hmm?’ he said through gritted teeth. His hand shot down to pinch the inside of her thigh, so suddenly she didn’t have time to recoil. She squeaked.

But he didn’t miss the flash of lust that flickered in her _innocent_ little doll eyes, even though she was quick to cover it up with that infuriating naïve, guileless look she always pasted over her mug. He felt like smacking it right off her pretty face. For _once_ in her life, a spoiled princess like her needed to get it.

‘ _I saw that_. You want it, don’t you?’

‘B-Baby, –’

‘Why don’t you shut that _pretty little mouth_ of yours for once, _honey_ –

‘Len what’re you –’

‘ _Shut it_ you little bitch or this is going to hurt like that _innocent_ shit in your skull can’t imagine _I am sick_ of your false whining and you’re going to do as I say unless you want your nuts beaten loose – and I _mean nuts_. Permanently.’

She gave a little scream.

He _really_ smacked her.

She went all slack, stunned into dumb silence, face stinging red.

He moved his hand higher up the inner side of her sweating thigh, bending over low enough for his lips to brush her ear. ‘Do you _want_ it to hurt?’ he breathed softly. ‘Want me to hurt you really, really bad, honey? Is that why you treat me like a fucking _bitch_?’

Involuntarily, a shiver coursed through her spine. He didn’t miss it.

‘ _Got you_.’ He leaned into her, letting his breath crawl down the nape of her neck, and she shivered again. ‘I’ll take that as a yes, hmm?’

He pinned her down triumphantly.

She whimpered faintly as he pinched her frillies and dragged them down to her ankles.

‘Now stay still, yes? I’m giving you another chance; be good and I won’t make it hurt.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Baby, ah baby. Thought you'd always be mine...  
> ...Until he blows it. (Well, never heard of a boyfriend who wouldn't blow up if you sang that in your hotel room. NEVER do that unless you want to sleep in the lobby.)
> 
> Sorry for the long mental debates. I’m obsessed with Len, even if he’s a bastard here, so. His thoughts matter. There's a bastard-Len for every cute shota-Len and fluffy-Len and caring-Len created in the world, and as they all say, every silver lining comes with a thundercloud on top of it.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ...In which Len is a sick perverted sadistic bastard and the naked girl his punching bag. If you don't know that already. This fic was written for my stress-relief.

3

The alcohol concoction from earlier was really starting to get round to her head now. It put a severe, rather appetising blush in her face, seeping down her neck into her ribcage, trickling into the pulpy hollow of her stomach like pink syrup. Her smooth, reddened skin radiated heat – especially her sweet, tender parts, glowing pink – erotic and helpless, left so completely undefended that it wasn’t long before she was covered in bite marks all the way down her body from the tips of her ears. All the way down.

She was steaming, naked, and his to do with as he pleased.

‘N’uhh, baby,’ she giggled, ‘You’re so _pushy_.’ She snickered at her own joke.

He rolled his eyes. Drunk, definitely.

Nicely intoxicated, all happy and lovely-dovey in fairytale paradise. Never suspecting he could have added anything in her booze if he’d wanted to; for all she knew, some sort of nasty laxative that’d make all the shit flush out from her pretty pipework, leaving her skirt and panties a sorry brown mess. (Or, he mused vindictively; he could plug her, just to prolong her adorable suffering, and take her downstairs to the lobby with an audience – and wait there for her shit to explode out.) She was such a princess; what he wouldn’t have paid to see that.

He grinded her at a comfortable Sunday pace. It seemed like her limit.

‘ _Mmmhhn_ … yes-s – Show me more, baby… I know you got more.’ She wriggled her body against his, apparently trying to be seductive. It actually put him off. She clumsily missed, hitting wide.

He ignored her and went on with it – just hard enough to make it hurt a little.

‘I want… – _hn-aaahh_ – no, not – _aahn_ – I want you to l-let go…’ she moaned, ‘…inside. _All_ the way, baby. I wanna have a baby – _n’uuh_ – stop – ugh… don’t, _right there_ …!’

‘…’

Did that mean her royal highness was giving him permission to get rid of his very annoying _nappies_ , or was her royal drunk highness just gabbing nonsense?

‘Aaahhh – there! – _unngh_ … ha…h…’

After listening for a while he decided it was the first.

But aiming was actually quite a challenge when the kill zone was so tiny.

She was quite a sweet girl, actually – just sometimes impossible.

Even now when sopping drunk, she was giving him hell. He couldn’t believe it. This girl. This bitch. This little piece of shit.

‘Alright… you know what?’ He stopped. He reached down to pinch her clit, sharply pressing his thumbnail in – she squealed like a piglet. ‘You’re too _stiff_. That’s what’s wrong. You’re not listening to me _at all_ , are you?’ She was as dry as tissue paper.

He grasped her hips between his hands and began to grind forcefully, compelling her to follow him. Faster and faster, he bought it to a breakneck pace until she was virtually like a ragdoll in his hold, dipping lightly in and out, in and out to loosen her in preparation. She began to grow slicker, moaning breathlessly as his member twitched with tension, teasing her entrance.

That should be about enough, he decided.

‘Don’t worry honey. This’ll only hurt _a lot_ ,’ he hissed between his teeth as he slammed into her cunt, full on.

Her little buttonhole ripped. She gasped, whimpering in overpowering pleasure as he drilled her right in her spot, _pressing_ so hard she screamed.

‘ _Oomph_! Ungh…’

Without waiting for her, he pulled out and thrust again, deep into her soft recesses. She ripped further, gasping in pain. And again, again, and again and again and again, brutally pounding her. Her spine arched back and forth with the force like a wire. Before she could draw her breath he mercilessly thrust in yet again, over and over, pulverising her little plush cave like mincemeat, a harsh grin spreading across his face.

‘Aahn- ! _Haah, haa_ … hn-aaahh! S-stop…!’

She gasped and gasped. He drilled her until she cried. She frantically begged, screeching, moaning. She didn’t talk. She didn’t complain. She just begged him to stop. What a hypocrite.

She sounded really sweet when she was frantic, he thought.

Harder, harder. She sang beautifully.

‘gh… Please… _nghh, uaghhh-_ h-hurts… It h– uunnghh! – _aah_ , _hn-aaahh_ …!’

She wildly clawed and grabbed the sheets in an attempt to hold onto something, hands clutching sweetly at her small abdomen in pain as her abused insides threatened to explode under his ruthless assault, clenching and pulling and torturing her like it’d burst out of her gut. When he stopped, her abs were still pumping furiously, rippling with a staggering rhythm like a creature with its own will, and he thought she looked pretty ridiculous. She moaned and moaned even after he’d stopped, flopping up and down, up and down, dripping. Just a few more and she would have come gloriously. In a messy, graceless, embarrassing flood of wet cum.

He personally couldn’t care less if the guests ten floors up heard them.

She continued to moan as he unmounted her, curling up on her side in an attempt to ease her painful contractions.

His back smarted with her fingernail marks; long gouges of them, worming across his skin where she’d clutched and clawed at him in her struggles. He was quite sure some of them were bleeding. They’d scar for a while, most likely. Hadn’t he told her specifically to keep her claws clipped if she wanted him on the bed?

Scowling at her in annoyance and planting a weighty glare to keep her in place – stumbling slightly – he went to fetch the bandages from the first-aid box. She whimpered in protest as he left her half-climaxed; she was so cramped up he doubted she could stand anyway.

The job didn’t take that long – just long enough for her to cool down a little so they could continue.

Or the bandages were long enough, anyway.

So here she was, tightly trussed up and gagged in bandages, like a de-feathered turkey naked on the bed, bulging after a good firm stuffing and pounding. Now awaiting the sizzling grill and the fun to climax, staring up at him dolefully, wondering how she’d ended up this way.

She could ask herself.

He just couldn’t help but smile at the look she gave him. ‘What?’

Laying her down on her back on a mound of pillows, her head propped against the headboard, wrists strapped to the parallel beam above, he positioned himself between her thighs, firmly gripped her legs and prised them open to expose her tender slit. It was torn, and bleeding slightly. When he stretched her a little wider apart, flexing her hip joints, the reddened folds spread out like petals. Her cheeks went pink. He smirked.

He meaningfully placed his fingertips in that soft, sweet spot between her pubes, massaging her, appreciating her attention as the anxious gaze fixated on him fluttered with the acute sensations he knew would stab through her hypersensitive nerves. He made sure he met panicked her eyes, pleading mercy as he slid his long fingers into her. One – she stiffened. Another finger followed; and he watched her arch and flex in pain, legs kicking helplessly as he added yet another finger and dug them deep, deep into her. She cried and moaned and struggled – and then bucked clean off the mattress with a particularly vicious poke, like receiving an electric shock.

‘Mmm. You like that, honey?’ he laughed.

He hooked his fingers. She squirmed about, whimpering.

Feeling the exquisite thrill that brought, tingling deliciously down his spine – the power to reduce that flippant, self-centred, infuriating little bitch to tear-eyed begging with a mere twitch of his fingers – he made up his mind to _break_ her, never mind what he thought he’d wanted from her. Slowly, painfully at his leisure.

After all; turkeys had to be grilled nice and slow to make them tender, juicy and succulent, no rushing.

They still had five hours till morning, and she was completely at his mercy. She was going to be sorry – very sorry indeed – by the time he was done with her.

If she could still think at that point.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay… I am kinda disturbed… This isn't related but why are nearly all the lemons involving Len on AO3 M-slash? o.O I'm starting to believe he may be canonically gay...


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ...In which Len is still a bastard. No change there.  
>  Nothing happens in this fic except porn, dear readers.

4

‘ _Mmph –! Nghh, unnghh…!’_

She bit down hard on the soaked, frothing gag, eyes squeezed shut as she received her long course of due punishment. Her flushed face gradually contorted, and contorted even further until it was all squashed up and ugly like a crying baby, turning redder and redder until it almost burst. With a clinical gaze, he watched her, evaluating her responses. Mimicking a puppeteer. He worked her up slowly and deliberately, painfully pushing his fingers in, then pulling them out halfway before sliding them back in further, then completely out, making sure she couldn’t come until he wanted her to. This was a punishment, not a favour.

She quivered and flexed and then bucked up and down under the range of pressures he prescribed through his fingertips, whimpering – here and then there, arbitrarily, and each time he hit a spot he’d receive an agonised squawk from her throat like a retarded squeaky toy.

Her lower stomach convulsed, hard, dangerously close; and he pulled out again, waiting for her half-peak to pass before continuing, tormenting her. She moaned pleadingly.

She looked like she was having a Sunday hike through heaven.

Now that wasn’t funny. At all.

With a frown of displeasure, he sharply nipped her on the thigh, making her squeal in shock. Then she arched off the mattress as his fingers successively stabbed her sweet spot he’d discovered up inside her, swift and hard. He sadistically twisted his fingers, to and fro, and her hips jerked violently to and fro with them.

‘ _Mmmgh…!_ ’’

Now she didn’t look so comfortable.

He pressed harder and screwed her up and down. She looked a little beyond uncomfortable, groaning and thrashing in agony like a marionette as his ruthless hand directed – snapping her up, to the left, then slamming her back down and wriggling his fingers inside her till she jigged wildly about on the mattress in pain. He laughed.

A big, bright red blotch bloomed up on her thigh. ‘ _Ummh_ …!’ she whimpered as he unclamped his teeth from her flesh, leaving a thin trail of saliva he didn’t bother to hide.

He shrugged. It was conveniently there, so.

She soon received a dozen more bites on each side, bleeding on the inside of her thighs as he dealt her one last bit of decoration. She panted with exhaustion.

‘Let’s take a break… I expect you’re getting bored.’ He pulled his fingers out of her roughly, with a painful sucking noise. She recoiled like a spring.

He watched her panting, small busts frantically heaving up and down.

He knew what he wanted to do next; the urge from tantalising her had been starting to get unbearable.

‘Y’know, I’m feeling a bit dry… Why don’t you do something about it?’ he drawled.

He was awful, he thought. The idea somehow gave him pleasure.

Shoving her down on her knees was like clobbering a mole down into a whack-a-mole machine. Her floppy, bloodied legs gave like jelly. He swung his own legs over the edge of the bed, firmly hemming her head in between his knees.

He untied her gag.

‘Your turn.’

Before her slow head made sense of what he meant, he showed her. His steel-hard, swelled member thrust magnificently deep into her open O-shaped little mouth, and she choked adorably, eyes watering as her tongue was crammed back down her throat.

‘ _Mmwhh_ …!’

He firmly grasped the back of her head and pulled her closer between his legs, so that his huge length went all the way in, forcing his way into the cave of her narrow throat, hard tip stabbing the tense back wall.

‘Nhh…nnnghhh!’ she moaned thickly in pain. Her voice vibrated through his nerves, making him hum low in pleasure. He reached down to pinch her nose. Her eyes looked like she couldn’t believe what was happening to her; he appreciated her astonishment.

Then her face turned blue with panic as she realised she couldn’t breathe.

He kept a firm grip on her. She frantically tried to wriggle out of his hold, but to no avail – each time she tried to turn her head, snapping it this way and that like a trapped animal, he hissed and stiffened. His breathing grew rough. Her lips closed like a tight clamshell around him; her throat convulsed; her tongue beat up and down like a choked fish and her little lungs sucked and pulled with astonishing strength for their size, desperately begging and begging for breath and finding none until – he threw his head back with a throaty groan – thick white fluid instead of air gushed into her lungs and she spluttered like mad.

He laughed heartily.

Then he noticed she was suffocating under him.

He stopped for a while to let her collect her breath, closing his eyes complacently.

Outside the little wet cavern of her mouth, it felt cool.

‘ _…hah, hah… h…_ aaah – uaagh…’

Crumpled on the floor at his feet, once her hacking coughs had subsided, she started to mewl shrilly instead, as if in pain. She panted like a kettle letting off steam; if he peered into her flapping maw, he thought could probably see down her gullet all the way to the small, convulsing opening of her stomach. He was almost tempted to stick his arm right through – inflicting a massive, sore bruise in the bottom of her stomach and leaving her probably unable to swallow anything without being in agony for months.

Dismissing his very sadistic impulse, he gently re-plugged her mouth. He didn’t want to kill her.

She tossed about between his knees even more vigorously than before, apparently trying to appeal something to him through the now even harder, pulsing plug. He groaned heavily as she sucked, practically drinking off him, pumping out the burning fluids from his system with each hysterical contraction of her throat. Her whole abdomen spasmed with the desperate effort. He arched his back, throwing his head back in rare overwhelming pleasure. It felt too good to stop. She sucked and sucked for all she was worth, until he was bulging huge. Pain – blinding pleasure – His hips bucked up violently, clipping her jaw as he snarled.

He exploded for a second round before he allowed her more gulps of air. She vomited onto the floor and didn’t seem to want to move again after that. This time, she wasn’t so spirited.

‘ _…h…aahh… ha…a…_ ’ she gasped.

Oops.

It was about time, he reflected.

She must be reaching her limit of endurance. He’d already had his schedule planned in fact, before they’d started all this, just that he got so carried away he’d almost forgotten. He _had_ forgotten. But since he’d already consummated his purpose, or was doing so at the moment, there wasn’t much use for it anymore.

He pulled out from her, replaced the fabric gag tightly in her mouth and dragged her back onto the bed.

‘What’s wrong honey?’

‘ _Mmph… nngh, nngh…’_

She didn’t really form any coherent words. She just rolled about like a fat, useless caterpillar.

‘Oh _my_ , I wonder what was in that drink just now, hm? I’m surprised it never occurred to you – anything could have been in it, don’t you think?’ he murmured. ‘Haha… I’m so sorry. I totally forgot.’

She froze. Any remaining blood in her face drained like a water closet.

‘Don’t be scared, honey,’ he snorted. ‘It only gets worse for you. That’s how everything works.’

Deliberately, he felt her up. Tenderly below the navel. ‘Dear me…’ He shook his head, chuckling.

But of course, he’d almost forgotten too – he’d been depriving her of her climax. A very painful climax indeed, but it wouldn’t be right to end their night without her hard-earned reward.

Very hard indeed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies if you want to dig your eyes out… I’m probably overdoing it. But I’m the type who keeps on dumping high-calorie junk on top of a parfait like a Skyburger (an invention from the previous decade, young ones) and doesn’t care if it looks ugly or – heck – doesn’t care shit if Cronus can’t eat it; I just like building mountains of whipped cream and cornflakes and chocolate sauce with a truckload of cherries on top. It’s an obsession.
> 
> I’m also a pleasure-prioritising person… and I cordially advise you to bite off only what you want to chew, not what you can chew. It makes life much less unpleasant. And do keep your eyes intact, there’re still more gourmet cuisines and ice cream-soaked burgers coming up...
> 
> I also take pleasure in euphemism.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The chapter that's solid porn for sadists. (This whole fic is porn, yes.) And where you'll probably find out if you’re a sadist yourself. If not, you’ll probably just find this stupid.
> 
> Ugh. Yes, I’m a psycho. The kind you find in Hitchcock movies. (Just hitched a tad higher.)  
> But I hope you understand that just because I write like a psycho in one fic, it doesn’t represent my whole life (heck, no) or all of my writings… So DON'T JUDGE ME FOR THIS.
> 
> ...Cut all that, I'm a pervert. xD

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here’s another name in the List of Names You Should Not Give Modern Kids, other than the obvious Dick and Fanny. Dominick. Imagine being called, “Hi Dom!” in the face every morning. God save us. You’re virtually breeding sadists. (And I’m such a hypocrite…)
> 
> Or they’ll say it the way the sloths go, “Hiiii, Nickkk! (super slow-mo, courtesy of Disney)”. It’s an equally morbid prospect, yeah? So don’t name your kids Dominick, if you happen to go stupidly removing your condoms.

5

His probing fingers soon found the stiff, swollen lump in her lower abdomen. Right there, near the slender tip of her little clenched-up, punished organ. He pressed down on it so hard with his thumb that she screeched in pain.

‘Here?’ he asked.

She didn’t reply – so he pressed again, cruelly on the same spot to make her confirm it was there. Her eyes welled with tears. The sight was so adorable that he went on pressing until the tears finally spilled down her blotchy cheeks, and pressed one more time to make it drip on the sheets, leaving a dark bruise in her stomach.

He gasped dramatically. ‘You’re all clogged up! Your juice bag’s gonna burst unless you get it treated, honey… Why didn’t you tell me earlier?’

Her reddened eyeballs popped out in soundless horror, and he would have pitied her if the result hadn’t been so unfortunately comical.

He caressed her crotch. A whimper escaped her as he deliberately massaged it. ‘Does it hurt so bad? Aww you poor girl… does it hurt? No wonder. S’it hurt so bad you wanna cry?’ He leaned into her, mimicking her scrunched-up face. ‘Don’t worry, honey… I’ll help you get it all out.’

He lifted his hand off her and let it hover there for a few moments, skimming it to and fro over her quaking body with an exaggeratedly indecisive expression as her goggling eyes swivelled to and fro with it. He could _hear_ her heart pumping in dread. It was like his hand was magnetised, pulling her round eyeballs faintly out of their sockets as it moved. Sweat ran down her neck and collected in a small pool in the crook of her rigid collarbones, seeping out of her face and stomach and armpits and all her unmentionable parts in tiny glistening beads, staining the bandages. They cut into her body like strung-up meat. Her skin between them was red and freckled and boiled up, showing enough life left in her to dance just a bit more.

Or maybe it showed she was done.

…Well, never mind. _He_ wasn’t done with her yet.

He knew he was probably being really sick, but he was having too much fun to care.

That was for neglecting him all these fucking months. Surely, if she had enough energy to protest, she had enough to entertain him.

He placed his fingertips in between her pink breasts – she whined pleadingly, adorably – dryly squeezing the left one in his hand. ‘Oh my gosh – what happened to your _heart_? It’s going like a jet pump. Are you _alright_ honey? Seriously?’

He kissed her reddened breast. ‘Or are you still _scared_ of me?’ he crooned. He parted his teeth and bit down on her flesh with a grin, stuffing his mouth with breast. She was firm and sweet.

She moaned.

His tongue played around with her tiny stone-hard teat as he indulged her for a short while, breathing in her blushing sweat-coated flesh. He sucked on her breast thoughtfully.

Realising she was hyperventilating in terror, he propped her up against the headboard, loosening the gag. ‘Hey – don’t panic. _Breathe_.’

She gulped in a breath to scream.

In an instant, a harsh punch from him struck her in the gut – she choked – and her juices squirted out from inside her, dirtying the sheets with a humiliating squelch. At that, he lost his head and burst out laughing. Her face turned the shade of blood.

‘Ahahahaha…! So _that_ ’s what’s stuffed up there? You dirty little bitch…’

He lost it. Completely.

He could see she made an effort to stop – and wet herself even worse. She looked adorably frantic. He gagged her once more. He gleefully waited for her to clench, and picked that moment to squeeze her again. She groaned. More of her shameful juices dribbled out. Smirking like a child with a new toy, he mashed his fist further into her tense abdomen and screwed it left and right, up and down, juicing her guts like a lemon. At that moment, he didn’t really care if he was crushing all her organs. All the better.

He punched her, punched her so hard her blood came dribbling out.

She began to blubber in pain, in a half-hearted way that annoyed him as shit – and snarling, he moved his fist to her entrance and brutally screwed it up into her little muff. She screamed.

Now that was more like it.

She was hot and hard and wet inside. She frantically clenched and clenched as she felt him move inside her, wrenching her entrance wider. She sobbed. It made him laugh – because the more she clenched, the more it hurt. Wanting to make it even better for her, he flexed his knuckles, digging them cruelly into her walls, and she wriggled and twisted and flopped up and down, sobbing in agony. He listened with a complacent smile. He _made sure_ it hurt. Like hell. He was going to make sure she’d learnt her lesson through and through.

He dug her again. He still wasn't satisfied. Not yet.

On sadistic inspiration, he placed his other palm flat on her lower stomach and massaged it hard, forcibly crushing her cramped guts into his fist. She groaned. A big, drenched patch had formed underneath her on the sheets – and she flowed even faster as he kneaded, squelching thickly. The upper regions of her inner thigh were long soaked, slick with cum, but he didn’t stop. He didn't care if she'd had enough.

He assumed she was begging for mercy by now; but nothing came through her gag anyway. He liked it that way. Her reflexive instinct was to clench until she was helplessly crying with the excruciating pain, sobbing, torturing herself, and still clench harder because there was nothing else her body knew how to do – screaming in pain – and he indulged her even further by ramming his fist in, redoubling the punch, up to the wrist.

Her hips gave way with a sudden, queer clopping sound, splitting up. Seeing from the way her face turned white, they popped off their sockets. Neat.

Deeper, all the way in – she screamed and screamed – he forced his way into her, infiltrating her delicate body for about the dozenth time that night, even deeper and deeper still this time, overcome by vicious lust. Her warm liquid oozed like mud between his knuckles as they sank into her fragile insides. Straight – into her trembling, contracting little organ. He squeezed it from the inside out, squeezing out the remaining sap from the innermost ends of her squidgy, wet feminine parts, ignoring her tortured screams for the sake of his starved gratification and satiating his curiosity as to how much would come out of her – quite a lot, as it turned out – and gave his fist one last twist that nearly dislodged her womb.

By then she was gone with the ghosts.

A disgraceful, pathetic squawk from both ends of her met the mattress as he finally yanked his fist out from her miserable gut. Blood flowed from her wounded insides like a river, the drenched blotch merging with the tell-tale spots of white wetness on the sheets. The bed was quite a mess.

‘Now be quiet.’

She was panting like a beaten dog, drooling, underdeveloped busts heaving; eyes flashing their whites in agony as his hand clamped over her lolling mouth to shut it. Her juice ran down his arm in syrupy, berry-coloured runnels, thick and sluggish, in a way that was almost appetising.

She twisted her body stiffly, making little jerking, bizarre movements like a snake with a shattered spine, an incoherent moan issuing from her gut. Her deflated belly was flexing freakishly. Writhing in agony – but in too much pain to move. The irony. Her comical attempts to breathe were coming out in rapid, choked hiccups.

Her guts were all over the place, he’d bet.

He left her to enjoy the sensation.

Before getting down to anything else, he wrapped one arm around both her upper legs, which were stretched out at an odd angle, and the other around her waist. He gripped her tightly, like a stick – and gave her a firm yank, twisting sharply at the same time. She screamed. With another loud clop, her hips grated back into their joints.

‘There,’ he grunted.

He laid her down across his lap, and she lay there shuddering in pain, temporarily immobilised. She hissed, clenching her teeth as he grasped one of her ankles, slowly lifting and bending her leg to test her joints. They seemed to be working fine, though very stiff.

‘You look charming, honey…’

He caressed her face. She struggled weakly. He effortlessly clamped her flat against his chest, and bent over to pick the soggy bandages free.

‘You enjoyed it – admit it.’

Only a muffled moan puffed out from between his fingers.

Lazily leaning closer, he brought his lips right next to her ear. ‘ _Admit it_. Or we’ll keep going until you learn to love it, hmm? Wanna continue? I’m fine with it you know.’

Her head bobbed frantically.

‘Are you sure? …Do you even understand me?’

She nodded harder, squeezing her eyes shut adorably. His glee intensified at the sight.

‘Beg for more, then.’

She whimpered.

‘I said _beg_ , bitch. On your knees. Beg for me inside you. Beg until it hurts.’

She only whimpered louder.

‘What? Is that a no?’ He let go of her mouth.

‘ _P… please… please –’_

Drawing her away to allow just enough space, he administered a hard, quick punch to her small bruised stomach. She sucked in a sharp breath, turning white with pain. Her battered body doubled over on his fist as blood spurted from her broken mechanics.

Tears ran down her face. He kissed her wet cheeks.

‘Good girl.’

Picking her up tenderly, he wiped her drool and whatnots off on the sheets and let her go for the night. He was starting to feel a bit sorry for her. Perhaps he’d been a bit cruel with her – something about her pleasing reactions drove him to it – but this was just her second time, after all. Maybe she was just naïve.

But broken now anyway, like a grotesque piece of Picasso art. One would eventually bore of a Michelangelo spectacle, predictable and rational as it was, but there were many other ways of appreciating a Picasso.

He got up from the bed, tottered, sat back down again; and after a waiting bit for his blood pressure to grow even, stood again to go have a second shower, taking the first-aid box with him.

It wasn't going to be much help if he left her with it, anyway.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The chapter you’ve all been waiting for. The one with no screaming girls.
> 
> …It really is a long night, isn’t it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So let’s see.  
> Traditionally when stuffing a turkey, you de-feather it, cut the backside (or chop off the neck), remove the entrails, wash it etcetera – and then spoon the stuffing into the cavity (or stuff it in with your hands – now remember to wear gloves, darlings), then stitch it up and roast it, so I guess Len wasn’t too far off. xP So much for Thanksgiving. Now I bet you’ll think twice before carving your poor turkeys, hehe.

6

It actually _hurt_ to walk.

Depositing the first-aid box on the washstand, he peeled off what few “garments” he had left on and tossed them in the rubbish bin. (Or more specifically, the remaining traces of what he’d torn off and hadn’t been bothered to remove properly. She’d probably eaten off the rest.) As he did, his eyes caught on a pair of roughly palm-sized flat bundles wrapped in toilet paper in the bottom of the bin, a bit of red-brown peeking out from between, and he couldn’t help but snort.

What else, honey.

Suddenly pitying her a lot less, he decided she’d be fine after all.

Would it hurt if he washed her now?

He looked in the direction of the door.

‘…’

A huge yawn leaked out of him.

He was tired – he felt more like having the hot shower just to himself. She wasn’t going to thank him for it, anyway. He’d deal with her in the daytime when the other guests wouldn’t complain about the noise.

He consoled himself with the thought of having some fun with it in the bathroom tomorrow.

He’d have to clean her wounds once, and she wasn’t going to react too kindly to that. Imagining being pumped out with water made even him wince, though he’d probably have to do it for her. He didn’t think she’d do it herself.

‘ _Huh_ …’ he sighed again.

He stepped into the shower and turned the temperature knob way up.

The steaming water was heaven on his bare shoulders, pounding down onto the back of his head to massage his sweat-dampened scalp, soaking his mane, hissing over the long fingernail scratches on his back. The clean, warm water raced down his aching body in streaming rivulets, easing his abused muscles, slipping along his shapely calves and ankles down to the tile floor, lighter than silk. His right wrist was sore where she’d clenched and rasped against his skin so many times it had turned red. He gingerly washed it with soap, wincing as the hot water stung his sensitive skin.

Well, it was worth it, he supposed.

He took his time cleaning himself once he’d examined the extent of his damage. It definitely did sting; he winced, feeling rather stupid. …Ridiculous, actually. When was the last time he’d lost his head with a girl?

He didn’t care the hell about pride. If he had it, he’d left it inside her outside. He just allowed himself to lean his back against the cool marble wall and utilise his much-overused hands once more that night, to ease the cramped muscles around his member, washing the clotted traces of her off his sore, reddened skin. He let out a faint groan, closing his eyes as his fingers kneaded at the painfully knotted fibres, back to normal softness.

Rather embarrassingly, it felt good.

He’d always been good with his fingers, in a way of speaking.

Slowly… His generous length rested in his cupped palm like a solid ingot. He squeezed it, groaning again, working his thumbs into the cramps deeper inside his heavy machinery. He’d fucked her pretty thoroughly; and while stiff he hadn’t noticed it, it got quite painful afterwards. Alone, he didn’t really care what he did. He indulged himself with a slipped finger in his folds, fingering the wet things inside, not too harsh but just for a little pleasure. It still hurt. He felt himself twitch in his own palm – and leisurely milked his balls till he bored of it, grinding his knuckles into his cramps, massaging his abs. Absently watching the splashes of white cream float away, dissolving in the rivulets of warm water trickling down the walls, like mist.

She was too fresh. Or just too small. Either way, he reckoned it’d take quite a few times to loosen her enough until it got anywhere near comfortable.

But then he smiled.

He’d managed to tune her nicely, fixed any loose parts that might have been up there. She was _his_ to condition. She may be annoying, and sometimes downright infuriating, but he also knew she wasn’t a slut like the others. Quite the opposite; she was pretty helpless. No one else was going to tamper with her, and that was saying something.

For today, he was quite pleased with his progress.

Scrubbing his hair dry with a towel, he gingerly reached for the antiseptic bottle to treat his scratches – but then doubtfully tried to look at his own back in the mirror, feeling fresher but still stinging a little, and decided he just couldn’t be bothered. It wasn’t like she had rabies or something, bitch though she was.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The chapter containing the rest of the squicks I might have missed out.  
> #Len’sNastyEatingHabbits (fictional tag.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Google-Image “minced meat machine” after you read this. Keep an etiquette bag on the ready. Just in case. (#SupportAnimalRights)(Also fictional. There probably is one but don't waste your time looking for it.)
> 
> …I set the rating as E for this fic, right?? (*goes to re-check*)
> 
> Len is a bastard brainiac who apparently never runs out of energy. He just woke up late for his exam and failed, that doesn't make him stupid. (I tell myself that... but minus the brains, so I guess that leaves me with just the "stupid" bit, huh. :/)

7

When he came back, she hadn’t moved, but had fallen asleep. Obviously, she was pretty spent.

Reaching down for her, he unclenched her from her foetal position at the foot of his pillow and tucked his blanket snugly around her naked form, nestling her head in his pillow at a comfortable angle. He gazed down at her still scrunched-up face, and placing his fingertips between her eyebrows, gently massaged her neat little forehead until her features smoothed out.

For about the hundredth time that day, he thought she looked really sweet.

He was combing aside the mangled locks on her face when she suddenly regained consciousness and – taking in his face less than a foot from hers – panicked. She nearly screamed and he had to muffle her again, crouching on top of her like a cat of prey to keep her down.

No malicious intentions, of course. Why would he do such things?

‘Shhhh – quiet, honey. Don’t panic, everything’s alright,’ he told her in a soothing tone, despite his irritation.

‘It’s alright, it’s just me… Just you and me…’

She gradually seemed to decide the situation wasn’t worth having kittens over. She watched him with her wide, puffy red eyes, breathing heavily.

Though the prospect of fluffy offspring wasn’t that entirely unattractive.

‘Calm down… You feeling alright, honey?’

She nodded.

‘Do you need anything?’

She shook her head mutely.

He fetched a dressing gown and an empty glass from on top of the refrigerator, beside the closet, cracking open a water bottle. He went back to the bed.

‘Here… have some water. You must be thirsty.’

Slipping his arm under her spine – her face twisted in pain – he gently lifted her shoulders off the mattress. He propped her up against the pillows, slipping the gown around her shoulders, and she obediently held the glass while he tilted it into her mouth, holding her head steady; but then she burst out spluttering, coughing up the water through her nose mixed with whatnot. Cold wetness splashed down her chin.

Shit.

Putting the glass on the bedside quickly, he patted her back until her coughing subsided, wiping off the split water on her sweet little chest. He eyed her for a moment, contemplating, then grabbed the glass and quaffed it himself. He was parched. Then he took the water bottle and poured the remainder into the glass, before replacing it on the bedside.

‘I’ll leave it here, okay honey?’

She nodded bleakly, staring vacantly up at him.

He was almost about to climb back into bed, to sleep this time – but a certain idea made him pause. He walked over to the closet, sliding the doors open. The lights clicked on.

Ah – down there. A small electric iron. It wasn’t that large, but he decided it would do okay.

‘Do you wanna go wash?’ he asked her over his shoulder, indicating the bathroom. ‘You can use the bathroom – I left the antiseptic there if you need it.’

She blinked indecisively, but then seemed to cringe from the idea of moving and shook her head meekly, shrinking back into the pillows.

‘If you say so,’ he shrugged.

Taking the iron, he went over to the armchair, next to a small coffee table to work on.

He dismantled the electric iron, removing the coil… the thermostat… most of the parts, which he spread out on the table. He also found a plastic knife on top of the fridge, and after studying it for a short while turning it this way and that, filed off the sharp edge. Then he neatly put together the electrical parts around the make-shift handle he’d fashioned from the knife, evaluating his handiwork with a relaxed eye.

He took care to reassemble the iron exactly as it was. They probably wouldn’t find out why it wouldn’t work when the next guests who tried to use it couldn’t, he mused. Though if they dismantled it of course, they’d find it an empty container.

She watched warily from the bed. Her movements were stiff as she lowered herself back down onto her side, sliding cautiously against the pillows. An involuntary moan of pain escaped her, making him look up from his work. She quickly clamped her mouth shut.

He smiled.

She shuddered.

He insulated his handmade device with a long strip of translucent polythene, leaving just a quarter-inch-long stretch of folded wire projecting vertically from the top of the rod, making sure there were no sharp ends.

Just to be careful.

He took it to the bathroom to test, so he wouldn’t frighten her.

It seemed to be working acceptably; leaving little striped singes in a face towel he’d dampened. He made a few adjustments here and there, and once he was satisfied with his impromptu invention he took it back to the bed and tucked it under his side of the mattress.

He lay down on his back, folding his arms under his head. He stared at the ceiling, pondering.

Beside him, her breathing was a little rough. She was curled on her side, probably still awake.

It was nice having her so quiet in bed, but he did wonder what he was going to do with her after this. He couldn’t keep her literally caged, so perhaps he’d have to take her to his house and let her stay there, though then he wouldn’t be free to misuse the bedroom like he usually did. How would he explain her presence to them – a piece of furniture? He could spend a few weeks on conditioning her alone, maybe, but that was the limit.

He was going to get bored soon, he thought glumly.

For now, she had his interest, but… Eventually, she was probably going to follow the same path as the others – becoming a loose, tasteless, overused punchboard. Because there was only a limited number of holes that could be pushed in every punchboard before it was used up. They stopped reacting like they ought to after that, no matter how they were punched.

Maybe he’d put her away in the storeroom, just while they were around. That seemed like a fair idea.

He somehow doubted she’d disagree.

He closed his eyes complacently, listening to the sounds of her panting and the faint, distant rumble of the occasional cars on the street far below. It was fascinatingly peaceful without her yammering.

She shifted now and again beside him, seeming unable to sleep, whimpering from the pain as she tried to find a position that would hurt less.

She began to cry softly.

Feeling a bit guilty, he drew her up in his arms in an attempt to comfort her, but she only made more noise so he let her go and left her to find it herself. For a moment he considered the makeshift instrument under the mattress, but then he decided it would be a bit inhumane to use it now.

He liked the shape of her ribcage; it fit nicely in between his cupped hands, in a way that if he gripped harder her lungs would crush like a tin can. When he punched her she bruised, when he beat her up she cried, and when he fucked her she moaned and screamed and drenched herself like an absolute doll. If he fucked her too hard, she broke. It made her seem rather… fragile, and soft, worth handling with a bit of care.

Her thin, pitiful moans still wouldn’t tone down after nearly an hour. The scowl on his forehead gradually began to deepen. It was annoying. He couldn’t sleep.

She might do with a reward; she'd been pretty good with him tonight.

He sat up and turned to her.

‘What’s wrong, honey?’ he crooned, stroking her forehead. ‘Does it still hurt?’

She whimpered.

‘Mm… Here – show me.’

Taking the two large pillows from under her head, he stuffed them under her buttocks so that her hips jutted up over the mattress, legs splayed.

‘ _Mmmhh_ ,’ she whined.

‘Shhhh… Relax.’

He gently brushed her messy locks from her forehead, caressing her sticky cheek. He ran his hand down the line of her body to her bruise-blotched stomach, stroking her. There wasn’t anything threatening about the gesture, but he thought she looked rather frightened.

He smiled to reassure her.

‘Promise to go to sleep if I make you feel better?’

She nodded, squeezing her eyes shut.

‘That’s it,’ he purred. ' _Good girl_.'

She squeezed her closed eyelids harder, twitching tensely.

Switching on the bedside lamp, he crawled down to her legs to inspect her wounds. She was… so to say, like a pulverised, bloody red rose. Less poetically, she had minced meat leaking out of her guts. He dragged his wet tongue over that oozing region, tasting her.

She gave a whimpering moan, shuddering down her entire length.

Slowly, keeping a grip on her knees to keep them from flying up, he gently licked her swollen gut entrance clean. She just kept on moaning and shuddering, covering her mouth with her hands as if trying to keep in her sounds. She closed her eyes and allowed him to continue his administrations without protest.

Her delicate skin was soft and faintly furry, traces of her cum still clotted on the inner sides of her thighs. He was careful to be gentle; her entrance was torn quite badly from all his abuse, oozing out beads of blood and fluid. No wonder she was in pain, he reflected mildly.

He kissed her gently, flicking the tip of his tongue inside. Her lips felt like soft pudding on his. He curled his tongue around the base of her clit, and sipped.

Her moaning rose by several pitches.

He paused long enough to smile, licking her fluids off his lips. ‘You like that, huh?’

He slicked his tongue over the wounds in her soft folds, again, and again gently, and the steady rhythm of his lapping eventually seemed to lull her into quiet, soothed state of pleasure. She moaned low in the back of her throat, loosening her legs a little wider to allow him to settle comfortably between them.

She was finally learning, it seemed.

Now and again, he would deliberately press his tongue further in than she expected, teasingly, and she would stiffen with a fresh moan of pained pleasure, dampening sweetly.

She tasted bitter and salty, with a tang of iron.

He later fetched the antibiotics from the bathroom and got to work trying to apply it on her.

It was a messy business. She wouldn’t stay still.

He ended up on top of her facing her feet, with his knees pinning her arms to her sides and his shoulders shoved in between her knees to keep them from snapping shut on his hands, feeling quite ridiculous. Then he carefully applied a generous amount of cream on her cunt, slipping his tired fingers in to get at the inner rim while she struggled and whined between his knees, pretty much like an exorcism. If she hadn’t thrashed his nail wouldn’t have gone in like that, but she was all but deaf to his coaxing.

He knew she was exhausted. As soon as her pain lessened, her eyelids started to droop, shadowed by dark purplish bags underneath them, and her head sagged forward into his shoulder.

He drew her into his arms. She let her body drape heavily over the side of his chest, her head resting below his collarbone, and eventually her breathing grew slow and regular. He held her jaw in his palm, lifting his head to kiss her forehead before he too closed his eyes.

Damn, he was tired.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MINI-ANNOUNCEMENT:  
> Concerning the last tag attached, “Written by Fangirl”… That was basically put there to tell you that the subject of fangirl worship is very unlikely to face any retributions in the fic regardless of whether he’s a total asshole. Flamers are welcome regarding this matter.  
> Just lemme say I clicked into what might be the mind of a mentally depraved rapist. He won’t always be like this. (I think.)
> 
>  
> 
> …What I still can’t believe is that I ended up writing a solid slab of porn. After everything I’ve been saying to people about Len deserving better handling with proper plots… And such a long one at that. x_x Is this what stress does to people?  
> If you somehow liked this fic, uh… sorry, just gonna say hi and thanks for reading this weird fic written by a closet porn-writing junkie. (Do NOT tell my real-life acquaintances, thank you) :}


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Len turns from a figurative douchebag into a literal one.
> 
> ... Just kidding. He’s already done that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Maybe just one more extra scene. ;P …After all I said. But I worship bananas, not crosses or stars, and bananas are meant to be bent.
> 
> Just so you know, I rewrote this entire chapter and cancelled out most of the original - so if it seems disjointed, that's probably why, sorry.
> 
> Actually I’m really starting to regret posting this fic (I believe I’ve regained my sanity over the past several weeks) so I’ll finish it off quickly before I end up never doing so. x,x The problem is, I still can’t decide whether to kill this heroine or leave her permanently traumatised.  
> Can't think of any other outcome, actually. ._.

Nothing would have prompted him to dismantle more machinery than a blaring alarm clock at eight in the morning, be it digital or analogue. If it just came to it, he might have hammered it flat or thrown it out the window, because _he hated alarm clocks_. Almost nearly as much as priggish bitch-girls.

Luckily, his hotel room had neither this morning. So the day started well for him.

The sunlight glowed clean white through the peach-coloured curtains, casting a soft rosy tint on the girl’s bloodless face where she lay very still, next to him on the bed. Wow, she was really cute under daylight, he thought lazily.

Then he frowned.

…Was she too still?

Suddenly a little worried, he leaned closer, peering into her face.

Ten seconds went by as he watched closely.

‘…’

She _was_ breathing, though very shallowly. When he carefully touched her forehead it was hot, not cold. He reckoned she might be having a slight fever. Which relieved him.

His gaze travelled further down her body, slightly shadowed under their shared blanket but still clearly visible.

Damn – he must have been some gentleman, he realised. Her body was covered in huge swollen bruises, decidedly exotic-looking in mixed shades of maroon and green and grey. There were greenish purple blotches in her ribs and stomach where he’d punched her pretty indecently, now quite stark against her pale skin.

Those… were going to take some time to fade off.

While the blood was fairly back in her cheeks, her condition might still have been considered rather delicate, so he decided he’d let her sleep through the morning and get her some breakfast later in the afternoon.

He put his dressing gown back on and, leaving the gutted girl spread out on the bed, went to wash his face and then make himself a cup of tea.

The dark red essence bled out from the teabag, slowly diffusing into the hot water. Time trickled by lazily. He squashed the teabag with the back of his spoon to squeeze out the rest, in impatience.

By the time he went back, she was up too, crawling about on all fours under the bed, with her dressing gown he’d left draped over her strewn ungratefully on the floor. She was scrabbling behind the bedside table – frantically groping for the disconnected telephone wire. Len smiled in greeting.

‘Hey honey. How’re you feeling?’

He had to admit; she looked seriously crappy.

She froze and spun around at the sound of his voice, face terror-struck. He walked up to her, staring her down at his feet, still smiling. ‘What’re you up to first thing in the morning?’

She guiltily glanced up at his smug eyes, cowering.

‘What?’

She shook her head slowly, mouth opening and closing but no sound coming out – her eyes swollen and red from crying all night. Her eyeballs looked twice their usual size.

‘I’m asking you to _talk_ , honey.’

‘ _I’m s-s-sorry_ …’ she rasped.

He sighed. ‘Can we not make a decent conversation?’

‘…’

She just looked scared.

He pointed to the bed. ‘Sit.’

She obediently got up and sat, with a stiff wince of pain. Her hips moved like rusted hinges with almost audible groans and creaks – but otherwise no complaint. What a change from her usual lack of manners. She was shaking faintly.

‘Glad to hear you can talk. Because I was thinking of giving your mum a call.’

Her mouth fell open in disbelief.

Len narrowed his eyes with a suppressed chuckle, privately amused. ‘Something wrong with that?’

‘…’

‘You were about to call her anyway, right?’

She quickly lowered her guilty eyes to her chest and shook her head, beginning to tremble harder.

‘Liar.’

‘…!’

‘We’re going to call your mum,’ he repeated casually, ‘and let her know what a suckish bitch of a girl you are.’

Her eyes widened, but she just kept staring at the front of her chest and nodded.

Leaning into her with one leg hooked on the edge of the bed, he fished her cell phone out of his pocket and unlocked it. ‘You’re at the airport. Tell her you’re going overseas for a year and you don’t give a _damn_.’

‘…’

The call only rung once before it was picked up.

“Hello!?”

He thrust the device against her ear. ‘You can say goodbye or whatever – but _try_ not to say anything else.’

‘M… Mum…?’

Muted, unintelligible ranting leaked from the outlet. Her mouth hung limply and her face gradually drained as she listened; her eyes started to water.

He tapped his fingers emotionlessly against the bedframe. ‘Hurry up.’

The sound snapped her out of her emotional nose-dive; the tears coating her eyeballs turned all glazed, and they returned to their original state like glass marbles embedded in a doll.

‘I’m… at the airport… I’m going overseas,’ she mumbled tonelessly. ‘For… for a year. Goodbye.’

More squabbling. It sounded comically hysterical. The colour started to come back into her eyes again.

She gasped in a breath. ‘Mum I’m –!’

Len snatched the phone back and cut the line. He turned to her irritably.

‘What did I tell you about _not saying anything else_?’

She sat there frozen with her hand still extended, wide-mouthed.

His eyebrow arched. ‘What?’

‘…I _didn’t_ –’

He dragged her off the bed and hit her across her dumb face. She fell down curled on the floor and he kicked her hard in the stomach. She groaned, holding her hands up in front of her.

‘ _Sorry… sorry…_ ’

He pulled her back onto the mattress by the wrists and crouched on top of her, putting her sex between his knees. He screwed his fist against her broken pubis. He hadn’t even noticed, but he figured his hand wouldn’t have fit if it didn’t break. Sure enough she screamed like hell, twisting her body about in pain.

 _Pitiful._ His lips pulled back in a smile, hard teeth gleaming.

‘You’re _mine_ honey, understand? You live as I say and you’re only worth the much of space you take up because it pleases me. Got that?’

She nodded frantically.

He leaned down and stroked her hair. She flinched.

‘I thought you might. Good girl.’

His hand felt down her tense neck, dragging through the valley of her slight cleavage to her flat stomach and her twitching little bellybutton. She struggled stupidly. Still smiling, he screwed his knuckles into the bruise in her ribs and she screamed until he let go. She was quiet after that. It was fairly enjoyable, like punching a board with wins nine out of ten.

He fetched his handmade discipline stick from under the mattress, rolling it unhurriedly in his palm.

Ah – they only had to check out at noon, so they had a lot of time to kill.

All his. He contemplated what to do with it.

His fingertips trailed along her sensitive skin, making goosebumps rise on her chest.

His gaze slipped down to her heaving breasts, the adorable round lumps laid out for all the abuse in the world he could indulge in. She blushed red all over with fear as he gave them a sensual stroke. He touched the large, vermillion bite marks he’d made all over her body last night – smugly running his hand once more down from her neck; her collarbone, breasts, down her ribs, her stomach, hips, and bikini line; down to the dark inflamed red of her thighs, where his teeth had torn right through her skin. The sight rather pleased him. Bending over, he gently kissed her stomach on an unmarked spot, biting into her tender flesh. He felt her stomach quiver erotically against his tongue.

Dragging his hands down her waists, he reached for her frillies to yank them down – and then chuckled lightly as he remembered she wasn’t even wearing any, and patted her soft pussy fondly. Feeling the way she hardened with satisfaction, he caressed her fur with his thumb, making her moan. She felt like mink.

‘Mm… You want me, huh?’ he breathed low into her ear, watching the streaks of pink colour the arch of her neck as she heated up. She held herself stiffly, still as a dummy, eyes squeezed shut. She trembled like an injured squirrel.

He laughed. ‘You lying little bitch.’

‘ _Nnngh…_ ’

‘Go on… Beg.’

‘…’

‘I hope you didn’t forget so easily, honey.’ He brought his lips close to her ear, close enough his incisors grazed the edge. ‘Want me to repeat it?’ he threatened softly.

‘Please – please don’t hurt me… Len, _please_ …’

Why did it sound so good?

He laughed breathily, shaking his head. ‘No, honey… That’s not enough.’

‘ _Please… please…_ ’

‘Why is it I like seeing you in pain?’ He laughed louder, shoulders shaking. ‘Hah! I just love it when you scream.’

\---

After all, she still owed him a few days’ worth of payment. If anyone was wondering, this was just his due.

She grew like a dumb doll after an hour or so.

More than once he caught her dulled eyes drifting towards the cell phone that used to be hers, now with squeaky clean memory, staring listlessly at the dead screen. Remembering Mum, perhaps. Sweet, stupid girl. Couldn’t she see the love right in front of her yet?

He kissed her broken face. ‘Hurts, does it honey?’

‘…’

‘As it should.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> …Morning comes, the mask comes off and the madness emerges. :)
> 
> This fic was posted from the stress-relieving porn-dump folder in my hard disk partly out of curiosity to see if it’d work with an audience… And I gotta say the view count amazed me. o,O I’m quite stunned – one way or another, haha, I’ve never gotten so many views for one fic before – but thanks for reading this super-shallow cowpat of crap with an unimaginably shallow heroine who I didn't even bother to come up with a name for! (I hope it wasn't a waste of your time…)
> 
> And here comes our last random topic. They actually have a category of Side Effects on Pregnancy for the ingestion of Sildenafil… which… is both pretty ironic and freaky. (Cough, M-preg, cough) It’s true that they have everything on the web, huh.
> 
> Ah well. Anyway. Goodbyes.


End file.
